“Shit!” She jackknifed out of bed, her feet thudding down on light blue carpet. She stood there, arms out, mind racing, trying to come to terms with the fact that she didn’t have a white dresser. That the walls in her room at Shadow Falls weren’t a pale yellow.
Her gaze shifted around. She didn’t have a white four-poster bed, either. She didn’t have a pink quilt. Or …
A loud crashing sound echoed from somewhere inside the house. Then came voices. No, not voices: screams.
Real screams like someone was about to die.
Della’s gaze shot to the mirror. Her heart stopped when the person staring back at her wasn’t … her. It was Bao Yu, her aunt. Somewhere deep in her mind, behind the wall of panic clawing at her conscious, she realized this was a vision.
“You okay?” Another voice rang out from somewhere, somewhere that wasn’t here. Somewhere that felt safe, but Della couldn’t go there. She had to stay here.
“Della?” a voice said her name.
A hand came down on her shoulder. Della swung around, growled, and showed her canines.
Suddenly the pale yellow walls disappeared. Her vision swirled, blurred, and then transformed into tunnel vision. She blinked, felt as if she were moving. She closed her eyes, then opened them. For one second she thought she was back in her room, but then something changed, everything changed. She lay on the floor, a cold tile floor; above her a ceiling fan whirled around. And around.
She cut her eyes left and saw a basketball about a foot from her face, sitting in a puddle of something red. She glanced right and saw … she saw a red tabby. Della fought to make sense of this, and then she did. The cat … Chester.
The feline rested on his side, he shifted his paw at her, his breathing labored. Just past the cat lay her husband. No, Mrs. Chi’s husband. But she was Mrs. Chi. She blinked, waiting to see his chest rise with breath. But no. He lay so still. Too still.
Someone’s foot landed between her and the cat. The shoe was a bright red tennis shoe that appeared to be made out of snakeskin.
Am I going to have to cut you again? A voice asked. And then, Shit, go get them before they go rattling their mouth. Take care of them.
Get who? Della wondered. She tried to look up to see the face of the killer, but her vision went black. A light, a soft light, called for Mrs. Chi. The woman’s fury at the killers swelled in her chest and she turned away from the light. She clung to what she knew. To the here and now.
A rushing sound filled her ears, the taste of blood filled her mouth. She felt it then, a kind of nothingness. Not fear. Not pain.
She was dying.
“No,” she yelled. But nothing came out of her mouth. Everything went dark, and all she could see was that beautiful light leaving her, floating away. Her husband of over fifty years was in the midst of that light, motioning for her to come. To hurry. But it wasn’t right. None of this should have happened. She needed to tell someone before these bad people hurt others.
“Della?” her name came again, but it was still far away. Her visions started to clear. She sensed she wasn’t alone. She saw his shape floating toward her in another light. A different light. Not Mr. Chi, but someone else. Someone … familiar. Chase?
Then he was gone. So was the light. A knife, blood dripping from its tip was held right over her face. Fear caught her by the neck and pulled her under. She felt a drop of blood from the weapon fall against her cheek. She tried to bolt up, but there was numbness in her limbs. Another spatter of blood dripped from the knife’s edge.
An odd déjà vu feeling pulled at her mind. She looked up from the blade, to the person straddling her. Feng.
Not Feng! See the freckle. There, beside his right brow. That’s not Feng.
Suddenly fighting mad, Della lifted her head up and let go of another growl. “No! No! No!”
The blackness returned and she welcomed it. Let it swallow her.
One.
Two.
Three.
She wanted to stay there. In the nothingness, but something, someone, brought her back again.
“I’ve got you. It’s over,” a male voice said.
What’s over?
Della sensed herself being lifted off the floor, cradled in someone’s arms. Her cheek came against a solid male chest. A solid bare chest.
She heard a steady heartbeat. And no sooner than she heard it than her own heart changed its rhythm to follow.
She opened her eyes and saw Chase’s green gaze on her. Worry etched his expression. She felt his arms around her. Felt the coolness of his skin against the back of her legs, her bare back. Felt the muscle in his chest, where her cheek rested. Another fraction of a second ticked by before she became aware of him lowering himself. He sat on her bed.
Just like that she recalled talking to him, remembered him leaving. She had a slight recollection of stripping down to her bra and panties before crawling under the covers. But other than that, everything else in her mind felt blank. How did he … Why was he … Surely they weren’t …
“You okay?” he asked.
She blinked. Okay? She was practically naked and in his arms and didn’t have a clue how she got there. How could that be okay?
Slowly the confusion started to fade, a memory lurked close. A memory of something bad. Something … Her heart started to race.
“No! Not okay.” Her mind pushed at the cobwebs giving her only a glimpse of something terrifying.
Bolting out of Chase’s arms, and not very gracefully, she landed with a hard thump on her ass on the floor.
Chase stood up. Her gaze shifted up. Shirtless. He wore jeans, but they were unzipped and hung open. A dark trail of hair traveled down from his belly, disappearing under the elastic-band waist of what appeared to be a pair of dusty blue, Calvin Klein, tight-fitting boxers.
She heard his words from earlier. What? Were you curious if I was a boxers or briefs guy?
She shook her head, thinking this might be a crazy dream. She looked at the clock: It was almost four in the afternoon. If this wasn’t a dream, she’d slept for a good two hours. She closed her eyes and willed herself to wake up.
When she opened her eyes, he stood there watching her, a tight frown on his lips. Then, remembering her lack of clothes, she shot up and snagged the pillow and held it over herself.
Only then did she remember the vision. Or visions? The ugliness of it rained down on her like pitchforks. The air in her throat hung. She’d seen Chester, Mrs. Chi’s cat, Mr. Chi, and she’d seen … her aunt.
Her knees gave and she dropped back down on the bed.
Chase sat down beside her. “It’s okay. Breathe.”
She looked up and recalled the shadowy figure she’d seen in the light. Recalled someone calling her name. Had he been here while she’d had the vision? Or … had he been … there? There in the vision?
“Were you…? Did you see…?”
He nodded. “It was different than what happened in the vision of Liam and Natasha. It was like a movie going in my head. But it wasn’t your aunt, or the older lady, it was you. When I woke, I got here as fast as I could.”
Tears filled her eyes, recalling bits and parts of the vision. Her heart ached for Mrs. Chi, and then she remembered … Not Feng! See the freckle. There, beside his right brow. That’s not Feng.
She glanced up at Chase. Had he heard that too? Just like that, she knew he had. “My dad didn’t do it. She’s just confused. Holiday says it happens all the time.”
She glanced up at Chase’s green eyes. Was that doubt in his gaze? “He’s not a bad man, Chase. He was the dad all my friends wished their dads were more like. Any kind of late-night event, my dad would be our driver. He’d pick up all my friends and drive us to and from wherever we wanted to go. Some nights, after a football game, he would take me and my friends out and buy everyone dinner and desserts.”
She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “He never missed a father-daughter dance or one of my events. He was my champion. I’ve
always known my mom loved me, but my dad … he adored me. If I had a problem, he was my go-to person. And there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for me. Once, when I was barely a teen, my mom was out of town, I ran out of tampons. I was too embarrassed to go to the store and buy them. He did it for me. And when I had my tonsils out, he wouldn’t leave the hospital. He’s not a killer, Chase. He’s my daddy. And I’m his little girl.”
Chase wrapped his arms around her. Pulled her against him. She was just too damn weak to fight him. “Douglas Stone did it.” He pressed his face into her hair and kissed the top of her head. The gentleness of that kiss had her breath catching.
She looked up, swiping away at her tears. “Do you believe that or are you just saying it to make me feel better?”
“I believe it.” He passed his thumb under her eye as if to catch a get-away tear. “It’s going to be okay,” he said.
Not everyone ends up together. You still have a choice. His words from earlier vibrated in her head and heart.
Then he leaned in—or did she?—either way, their lips touched. Somehow her pillow slipped to the floor.
The kiss was soft and slow, as if he were afraid she’d regret it. She probably would, but considering what she’d just been through she needed a distraction. That was what this was, she decided, nothing more than a distraction. A kiss didn’t mean a lifetime. It was just … a kiss.
He slipped his tongue into her mouth. In the background, she heard footsteps in her cabin. But before she could wrap her head around anything other than Chase’s lips, the door to her bedroom swung open.
Miranda stormed in. “Did you hear that Perry is—” The witch came to a screeching halt. Seriously, her tennis shoes probably left skid marks. Her hazel eyes grew wide; her mouth dropped open. “Oh, I’m sorry, I … you two just … uh, continue on.”
Chase shot up off the bed, probably trying to help, but something about the way he quickly zipped his pants just made the whole situation appear worse.
Miranda took several steps back and slammed the door.
Chase glanced down at her. “I’m sorry,” he said sounding genuine.
Della fell back onto the mattress, closing her eyes, and wondered how one’s emotions could move from horrified to wanting to be kissed to being humiliated in seconds.
“Just leave,” she pleaded and listened to see if he granted her request.
No footsteps sounded in the room. Instead, the mattress gave as he sat down beside her. “You sure you’re okay? That was pretty damn scary. I just … I … you … the thing…”
When he stopped making sense, she opened her eyes and caught him noticing what she was wearing—or what she wasn’t wearing—seemingly for the first time. “Please just go.”
His eyes swept up to her face. Slowly. All that tender concern in his eyes had turned into something different. His pupils were large and the green in his eyes seemed to glitter with a different kind of emotion. “But … uh … Don’t you think we should … talk about what all we saw?”
“Not now,” she said through tight lips and covered herself with the pillow again. Her bikini would reveal more than her bra and panties, but because it wasn’t a bathing suit, she felt more vulnerable.
“Okay.” He turned toward the door.
“Not that way,” she snapped. “The window.”
He looked back, just a hint of a smile in his eyes. “If I sneak out, she’ll really believe we were … you know.”
Della sat up, and hugged the pillow. “You aren’t wearing a shirt, your pants were undone, and I’m in my underwear. And for some unknown reason we were kissing. There is nothing in this world you could say to her that will convince her that we weren’t doing … ‘you know’! So just use the window.”
He opened it and had one leg out when he glanced back, that teasing look now brighter in his eyes. “One thing.”
“What?” She scowled.
He countered her expression with a smile. “Make that two.”
“What?” she snapped again.
“One,” he paused. “This … the kiss that just happened. It was your choice. You kissed me.”
She frowned, because damn it, she didn’t want to be reminded.
“Second. You got your days wrong.”
“Huh?”
“You’re wearing your Friday panties, and it’s Sunday.”
She tossed the pillow at him then glanced down to confirm it. Yup, she was wearing her day-of-the-week panties.
She threw her arm over her eyes and moaned.
Chapter Sixteen
Minutes later, dressed, but still not ready to face her friend’s accusations, or the deadly cold that had returned, Della heard another set of footsteps move up on her front porch. She inhaled the frigid air, and recognized Kylie’s scent, along with Socks, her cat.
She heard Kylie speaking with Miranda. Della purposely didn’t listen, only imagining what the witch was telling her. Then a loud feline howl filled the cabin. Was the cat protesting Baxter’s earlier visit?
Right then the chameleon knocked on Della’s bedroom door.
“Come in,” Della said, as if she really had a choice.
Kylie moved in first, her expression serious. She dropped on the edge of the bed beside Della. “Are you okay?”
“We were not doing the mattress mambo. I had a vision, he saw it too, and when he woke up he came here.” Della looked at Miranda standing in the doorway.
Kylie sighed. “I don’t mean—”
“I know it looked like it.” She frowned at Miranda. “And if I’d seen what you saw, I wouldn’t believe me either, but—”
“I’m not asking about you and Chase, I’m asking about the five spirits.”
“Yeah, I had…” Five? Five? Freaking five?
Della caught her breath. “No!”
Kylie nodded.
Della shook her head. “Two yes, but not five. You must have brought three with you, because I only had two.”
“There were definitely five. And they weren’t here for me. I couldn’t see them, only felt them.”
“Well, I didn’t see them either,” Della said, not wanting to claim them.
“Did they say anything?”
“No.” She popped up off her bed. “No. And no!” Della looked up at the ceiling. Not really sure who she was addressing, but looking up seemed appropriate. “Two is two too many. No way, no how, no hell, can I deal with five!” Then she glanced back at Kylie. “Are they still here?”
“No.” Kylie stood up. “They left.”
Miranda spoke up. “But they were here. The three Diet Cokes that I set out on the kitchen table for our talk—as soon as you finished what you were doing—burst. I swear I got frostbite!” She rubbed the tip of her nose.
Right then a loud thump landed on their porch, followed by a knock. Burnett.
All three of them walked into the living room. Miranda ran to the door. “Good thing you’re here. We had an invasion of ghosts.”
Burnett frowned, stepped into the cabin, and looked at Della. “Did you rest?”
“Yes.” Why did she get the strange sensation that he wasn’t just here to monitor her sleep? “Did Lucas’s trip to the basketball court turn up anything?”
“No.” From Burnett’s expression, she knew he had more to say.
“Then what?”
“I just got called to a murder scene. Three young weres. I think they might be the three you saw and may be connected to the Chi case.”
“At least we know who the three extra spirits were,” Kylie said.
“Did they say anything?” he asked.
“I didn’t even feel them,” Della said, hoping to put distance between her and them.
“You’re still not working the case,” Burnett said, “but it’d help if you could confirm they were the same ones. You up to it?”
Della inhaled. “Yes. Of course.” But everything inside of her screamed no.
No to not working the case. She wanted to catch the
Chis’ killers.
No to ghosts. They still freaked her out.
No to seeing more dead bodies. That was just wrong.
No to kissing Chase. She wasn’t ready for that.
Now all she had to do was figure out why in the hell she kept saying yes.
* * *
“You sure you’re okay to do this?” Burnett asked, right before they were about to cross the yellow tape.
“Would you stop worrying about me? I’ve slept. I’ve eaten.”
His brow tightened. “I was referring to … Never mind.”
She suddenly remembered the last body she’d identified. A young girl and her boyfriend had been murdered by a vampire. Della had puked her guts out.
She swallowed and vowed not to have a repeat performance.
“I can handle this.” And to prove it to him, and maybe even to herself, she took the lead and stepped over the yellow tape, walking closer to the storage shed that was located on the far side of the park. The same park where she’d met Lucas and had saved the girl from the weres. The park close to her house.
As she took her final steps up to the building, surrounded by an array of other FRU agents, she recalled how many times she’d played right here as a child. Had there been werewolves hanging out here then? Did her sister ever come out here at night now? The thought sent a whisper of fear running through her. And she made a mental note to warn her.
Della spotted three sheet-covered bodies lined up. Blood, the victims’ blood, filled her nose. With that smell came the horrid scent that Della recognized as death.
Burnett said something to one of the other agents. She should have been listening, but she was too worried about controlling her gag reflex.
One of the younger agents, Shawn, the warlock, who had a thing for Miranda, stepped closer and nodded at Della. Della returned the courtesy.
“You okay?” he asked.
Frowning, she nodded. She’d be a lot better if people quit asking her.
Another agent, a black-suited, older were, walked over to the three bodies and one by one pulled the sheets from their faces for Della to see.
Her stomach roiled, but she willed herself not to throw up. She looked from one tainted blue face to the other. As she worked at controlling her stomach, she lost control of her heart. She recalled seeing the three teens out for a fun Saturday night. They’d had their whole lives in front of them. More than ever, she wanted to catch the creeps who did this.